


Behind the Mask

by SarahSezLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahSezLove/pseuds/SarahSezLove
Summary: Severus Snape is a man with two faces: the one he wears as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the real one that only he and his house-elf are privy to. Until Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts, that is, then Severus has to decide which face is more important.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 26
Kudos: 236
Collections: Secret Snarry Swap19





	Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the prompter. I know it isn’t quite what you asked for, but I’m hoping it’ll do. Merry Christmas.
> 
> Prompt No. 13 from lilyseyes: As New Year’s Eve approaches, no one has heard form Harry. When Severus grudgingly checks on him, he finds Harry ill/injured and must care for him.

~~~present~~~

“Kizzy.”

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, didn’t require the slight popping sound behind him to confirm his personal house-elf had responded to his call. He didn’t turn from his place at the window, hands clasped behind his back, figure erect and proud, but continued to look out into the darkening sky, his attention fixed. He spoke quietly, tone calm and matter-of-fact, 

“Please be so kind as to inform Professor Potter that I will _not_ have time to provide him with general sickness potions if he continues his reckless behaviour of flying in all weathers, _and_ without appropriate apparel or warming charms, it would appear. The same goes for his bones. I’m happy for him to kill himself, just not on Hogwarts’ grounds.”  
Several seconds of silence met this stark pronouncement, but Severus waited, still, knowing that, whatever Kizzy’s feelings on the subject, she would be unable to refuse a direct order.

“Yes, Headmaster Snape, sir,” she paused for a mere second, just enough to let Severus know she was unhappy with his command, “Kizzy will be telling Professor Potter exactly what you is saying.”

Before the house-elf could disappear, Severus added to his instructions, well aware he was pushing Kizzy to the point where she would outright want to refuse. But he couldn’t stop himself. He was angry - deep-down, dragon fire angry - and he _needed_ to let it out somehow. If torturing a house-elf with instructions they desperately wanted to argue with was the only way to do that, then so be it. Severus Snape never claimed to be above petty, after all; just ask any of his colleagues – or students – of the past twenty-odd years, and all of them would be more than happy to wax lyrical on the personality deficiencies of Severus Snape. 

“You might also like to remind him that Hogwarts’ house-elves are _not_ here to see to his every whim. Potter _chose_ to stay in the castle over the Christmas period, he certainly wasn’t invited. He is perfectly capable of providing for himself over the next two weeks, although I will allow that you can prepare him the usual festive luncheon, which I assume he will have in his rooms. As to the rest, however, it’s only the two of us left in the castle, so I’m happy for the house-elves to take this time to clean and make necessary repairs.”

Severus found the pained splutter coming from behind him every bit as satisfying as he hoped it would be.

“That will be all, Kizzy. Thank you.” His tone brooked no room for argument, and he didn’t need to look behind him to know Kizzy had gone to do his bidding. It was a hollow victory.

Severus continued to stand contemplatively at the window, although his shoulders now hunched slightly as he leant closer to the darkening glass. He wasn’t watching Harry bloody Potter now. Of course he wasn’t. He hadn’t been watching in the first place, only noticing the daredevil acrobatics through the falling snow when he’d stood up from his desk in order to stretch out his stiffened limbs. Ministry paperwork was a thorn in his side, but he was disciplined enough to get started on it as soon as the Express departed in its haze of billowing steam and excitement. Just knowing all the dunderheaded children were gone from the castle spurred him on to get as much done as quickly as possible. Severus did _not_ intend to spend any longer than necessary on form-filling. He had experimental potions to brew and a backlog of Potions Weekly authors to eviscerate in print.

Any hint of outside light had slipped away during Severus’ silent contemplations. Only his own reflection, distorted by the imperfections of centuries-old glass, stared back at him, edges wavering with the flickering firelight behind him. It was not a face he was comfortable with looking at for too long. Severus had no delusions about what he saw. It was a face only a mother could love, as the old saying went. Of course, _his_ mother had made a mockery of that old adage, and he’d learnt from a very early age that he was judged on what others saw. And always negatively.

The fire-lit shadows softened the harsh lines of his face, but he didn’t see that, focusing only on the burning intensity of his eyes. For weeks now, every time he’d caught a glimpse of himself, he’d known that his inner feelings of anger and…damnit, bewilderment…were bleeding out through his eyes, making a mockery of his usual impassiveness, yet he was powerless to stop it. How nobody else had noticed, he really had no idea. He’d come to a choice of two conclusions; either his staff saw his inner turmoil and ignored it – he didn’t kid himself they saw him as a friend or someone to care about; _or_ \- and this was the more likely scenario – none of them really saw him. It was what he was used to and, in all honesty, he didn’t care, hadn’t for more years than he could remember. But… maybe that was no longer true. The _one_ person he’d wanted to notice and yet, paradoxically, didn’t… _didn’t._ Harry Potter hadn’t looked at him for almost four weeks – twenty-six days, if one wanted to be pedantic – and it was burning Severus from the inside. 

An hour later, having completed the final administration scrolls, which were now winging their way through the snowy night, attached to Hogwarts’ finest owls, Severus could finally relax. His personal quarters, situated above the Headmaster’s office, were warm and cosy; decorated in various shades of green and earthy tones, shot through with streaks of silver in the soft furnishings, they were the antithesis of his formal office, which he purposely kept sparse and utilitarian. He didn’t want people getting comfortable and outstaying their welcome, Merlin forbid. His fireside chair was the most comfortable Severus had ever had the pleasure of seating his weary arse on, and he regularly thanked Merlin for Kizzy’s understanding of exactly the comforts he needed. It was here he could fully relax, could drop the mask he habitually wore and just be himself. In his office, and elsewhere in the castle, he was Severus Snape, austere Headmaster of Hogwarts. But _here_ he was Severus Snape, a wizard who appreciated simple comforts: tea prepared exactly the way he liked it; Kizzy’s special chocolate peanut-butter biscuits (baked just for him); a small glass of single malt whisky, there when he most needed it, even when he didn’t know it himself. Honestly, Severus didn’t expect much from life. He knew how lucky he was to have his freedom after the things he’d done, and most days he was just grateful to make it through another day with his sanity intact, his mask still firmly in place.

Quickly divesting himself of his formal school robes and banishing them to his bedroom, Severus unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them up his forearms, before settling himself into his fireside chair. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes in appreciation. This simple, almost ritualistic, pleasure was most definitely the best part of each day, as the physical stress of keeping himself so buttoned up, so rigid, seeped from his body and melted away. A steaming cup of tea, Kizzy’s special chai blend from the aroma, appeared on the small side table beside him, and he reached for it, inhaling deeply. Thank Merlin his Kizzy had forgiven him his earlier fit of temper, for that is what it had been. Severus no longer lived in a state of denial concerning his many flaws. If surviving the war had taught him anything, it was that he no longer needed to be answerable to anybody but himself. Honesty _to_ himself, therefore, was something he had embraced fully, if somewhat painfully. It certainly hadn’t been easy to hold up the mirror and see the man he’d become; one filled with petty jealousies and hatreds, who’d let the treatment of others affect him so severely, that any semblance of the real Severus had been almost totally lost. 

So here he was, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, responsible for the education of tomorrow’s wizarding future, surely a more important job than ever before. It was a responsibility he took seriously, and so he’d made a conscious decision to maintain his serious – some would say cold and rigid – mien when undertaking his school duties. It was only in the privacy of his own rooms he dropped the façade and allowed himself to relax. Consequently, none of the Hogwarts staff, most of whom had known him for many years, saw beyond the act - although he was sure he’d caught Minerva’s contemplative gaze on him – except for one. Harry bloody Potter. And look where that had got him.

Severus continued to sip at his tea, gaze distant as his thoughts wandered back to July and the news that Harry Potter would be joining the Hogwarts staff as the new DADA professor. His initial reaction had been automatic, based solely on their prior history, and in his more introspective moments, Severus could admit – privately - it hadn’t been his finest moment since the end of the war. His objections, however, were overruled, and Potter appeared at the school gates a week before the new term was due to start, apparently eager to get himself settled in before the children arrived. 

Placing his now empty cup on the small side table, Severus settled even deeper into his chair, hands crossed over his stomach and feet stretched out. Relaxed as he was, the warmth of the fire soporific, he couldn’t stop his thoughts drifting back to those first days and weeks, even had he wanted to…

~~~past~~~

The knock on the Headmaster’s door was not unexpected, yet Severus took a deep, steadying breath. Thank Merlin for Kizzy’s warning that Professor Potter had requested admittance to the castle. The moment of meeting had arrived, and Severus was determined his new-found inner peace would survive intact, no matter the provocation. Placing his quill into the inkpot on his desk, whilst simultaneously checking his Occlumency shields were in place, he calmly called,

“Enter.”

The door swung open and he watched as Potter – he still couldn’t quite think of him as Professor – stepped confidently into the room. This wasn’t the boy he’d last seen, standing up to the Wizengamot during the post-war trials, but a man who had obviously grown comfortable in his own skin. His years as an Auror had wrought some very obvious changes, it appeared, not least of which was the air of confidence he exuded. Potter strode forward, his hand outstretched,

“Headmaster Snape. It’s a pleasure to see you after all this time, sir.” 

For a moment, Severus was struck by the deeper timbre of Potter’s voice, and he almost shivered. Almost. Standing up and stepping out from behind the desk, he met Potter in the middle of the room and reached to accept the outheld hand. If the voice had caused a physical reaction, it was nothing to the tingle that seemed to shoot into his body through that simple touch. _Sweet Merlin_ , this was unexpected. Years of hiding his emotions stood him in good stead, however, and he was able to answer in his usual measured way,

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr Potter.” Severus let go of Potter’s hand and stepped back, indicating the chair opposite his own. “Please take a seat.” He watched as Potter lowered himself, seemingly not quite as agile as he’d first appeared, as a slight tightening of his features gave away his discomfort . “Would you like some refreshments?” Severus didn’t wait for Potter’s reply, but conjured a tea set and quickly began to pour. He didn’t speak again until they were both settled with drinks made to their own liking.

Severus surreptitiously watched Potter from over the rim of his cup. It was obvious he was interested in the surroundings – probably comparing their starkness to the overcrowded knickknacks of Dumbledore’s day - as Potter hadn’t looked at him once so far. Interesting. Severus took the opportunity to look his fill, noting the differences to the man who had replaced the boy. Gone were the heavy round glasses, replaced by smaller frames that suited his bone structure far better. His physique was heavier, more defined, his shoulders broader, arms more muscular. From where he sat behind his desk, Severus couldn’t see Potter’s lower body, but he could surely imagine well-toned thighs that could grip…

He cleared his throat, eager to break that dangerous train of thought, and was relieved to hear his voice held no hint of his inner feelings.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Potter? I don’t think we were expecting you for a few more days.” He kept his voice light and enquiring, noting the look of surprise that flitted across Potter’s face. Ah, clearly he was not expecting Severus to be so amenable to his presence. Severus was going to enjoy throwing Potter’s preconceptions for a loop.

Finally, Potter turned his full attention to Severus. He smiled naturally - _damnation, there had to be a law against that_ \- before taking a quick sip of his tea. Fortification? Severus wasn’t sure, but he thought so.

“Honestly, sir? I couldn’t stay away any longer.” Severus watched as Potter carefully put his teacup down before continuing. “I’ve wanted to come back _so_ many times, but I knew if I did, I’d never want to leave. That definitely wouldn’t have gone down well with the Aurors,” he gave a small, self-deprecating shrug, “so I stayed away. Since being hired for the DADA position, I’ve been frantically sorting everything out so, once I was here, I didn’t have to leave again.” He smiled disarmingly, causing something in Severus’ midsection to lurch in unexpected appreciation. _Oh good grief!_ “Well, at least not for a long while,” Potter continued.

“I see,” Severus said slowly, steepling long fingers beneath his chin whilst studying Potter carefully. What would it take to rattle this young man’s composure, he wondered? “Tell me, Mr Potter, why do you think you’re suitable for this position?” Severus watched a slight tide of colour rise along Potter’s cheek bones, although he noted his eyes were not on Severus’ face, but…on his hands?

“Is the position not mine, Professor Snape? I mean, Headmaster…” It was obvious Severus’ question had caught Potter by surprise, and his smile disappeared, replaced by a look of consternation. “I was given to understand…”

Severus took pity and interrupted what looked like becoming outright panic,

“Of course the position is yours, Mr Potter. I was just interested to know why you wanted to leave behind a very successful career in law enforcement, if the newspapers are to be believed, in order to teach.” 

Severus kept his voice low and well-modulated, but he watched Potter’s reactions carefully. He actually really _was_ interested to know why a young and virile man – he was only 26 years old, after all – would want to give up a successful career, with numerous advancement opportunities, in order to bury himself at Hogwarts. Severus didn’t have to wonder if he, himself, would have taken on a teaching position if he’d been given a choice. The answer was a resounding _no_. 

A quickly cast Tempus, and Severus was astounded to note almost two hours had passed since Potter had entered his office. Through their discussions, he’d learnt much about Potter’s career with the Aurors; the errant curse, shot off by a suspect who’d managed to grab back his wand – the resultant paperwork a nightmare Severus could fully understand; the modified bone-shatter curse to Potter’s leg that required several months of healing, and heralded the end of his career. Potter explained all this in a very matter-of-fact-tone, but Severus could hear the sadness as he’d described how he had a permanent limp, quite extensive scarring and pain that flared at the most inopportune of moments, particularly in damp weather. 

The old Severus would have jumped on the excuse of Potter’s unsuitability for the DADA position due to his infirmity. The new Severus, however, listened gravely, asked pertinent questions, and summoned Kizzy to confirm his new professor’s living quarters were within a reasonable distance of both his classroom and the Great Hall.

Once Potter left his office, following Kizzy to his rooms, Severus sat in quiet contemplation. What in Merlin had just happened? He’d just spent a pleasurable couple of hours talking to the son of his greatest nemesis and, not only that, had found Potter to be nothing like the arrogant boy he remembered. Which of them had changed? Severus thought it might very well be him, and it didn’t sit particularly well that he’d so misjudged a child. He looked up at Dumbledore, snoring gently in his portrait. How smug he would no doubt be.

Severus didn’t see Potter for the next two days, although Kizzy kept him informed as to how Professor Potter was getting on in his quarters and classroom. Of course, Severus would never stoop so low as to use his house-elf for information, but he didn’t stop her from passing on little details. It wasn’t until Potter’s third evening in the castle that he saw him again. Along with his afternoon tea, Kizzy brought an invitation to dine with Potter in his newly refurbished quarters that evening. As much as he suspected this could be a mistake on his part, Severus accepted, although he was determined to maintain his formal demeanour; Potter’s rooms were, after all, part of the main castle.

It was during that first evening together - and well into the night – ably assisted over a bottle, or two, of Ogden’s Finest, that Severus finally laid some ancient ghosts to rest. Their conversation ranged across many topics and, even though they disagreed over several points, there was never a moment when his past feelings for the Boy Who Lived, son of his most hated rival, encroached on this newfound professional relationship.

A tentative working relationship was forged over the following weeks. Many times, Potter could be found at Severus’ door, a question or problem needing an answer, and this generally lead to companionable hours in each other’s company. Whatever the topic - discussions on politics, the latest research into potions or DADA spells - Severus found he rather liked Harry’s refreshing, though somewhat idealistic and naïve, take on things. No topic was off limits, it seemed, except the more personal. They steered clear of the past, having agreed on that first evening that there was nothing to be gained dredging up old hatreds, and Potter never mentioned any relationship woes, thank Merlin. Severus, of course, had no such relationship woes to impart. All in all, Severus had found himself liking the young man, once he got the chance to see past the boy hero label - the one utterly of his own making, he privately admitted.

Before too many more weeks had passed, Severus could admit to himself that he enjoyed Harry’s company more than he’d ever expected. He could also admit that his mask was beginning to slip when in Harry’s company. Not alarmingly so, but enough that he knew Harry was seeing more of the new – and hopefully improved – Severus than anyone else, except for Kizzy, had ever done before. It wasn’t easy to keep himself buttoned up tight when Harry was regaling him with stories of Auror ineptitude – Severus had been unable to hold back a smile and had basked in Harry’s answering beam - or reaching out to touch Severus’ arm for emphasis, something he did with increasing frequency. Every small touch, no matter how innocuous, touched off an answering spark within Severus that he was finding harder to ignore. And even the fact he’d caught Minerva giving him and Harry a knowing look at mealtimes, on more than one occasion, was not enough to stop this feeling. Severus was finally beginning to feel he might be ready to let others know he was no longer the Severus Snape they thought they knew. 

And then it was over.  
Just like that. 

Bewildered, Severus had no idea why Harry suddenly eschewed his company and seemed to go out of his way to be where Severus wasn’t. At first, he thought he’d imagined it. Harry was busy, after all, end-of-term tests and all they entailed looming large, so it was no wonder he had less time outside of his teaching duties. By the end of a week without seeing Harry anywhere but at mealtimes, however, Severus had finally relented and sent Kizzy with a dinner invitation. Kizzy’s return with a negative reply – Potter was too busy and would, regretfully, have to decline blah blah blah – had not rung true, not least because Kizzy seemed uncomfortable and would not meet Severus’ eyes when pressed for more details. It didn’t take a genius to know Harry was giving Severus the brush-off and no longer wanted to spend time with him.

So, what had happened?

Severus could only think that Harry had come to his senses and realised he, Severus, was not worth his time. Obviously, whilst _he_ had thought they were putting the past behind them and forging a friendship – and maybe something more, _damn this need for self-honesty_ \- Harry had seen it as something completely different. As nothing: just his way of settling into a new career, making the most of the one with the most experience, maybe. Now, though, he obviously didn’t need Severus’ help and didn’t have to pretend a friendship he didn’t feel. Either that, or Harry had purposely set out to have his revenge on his hated Potions Master, waiting for the perfect time to present itself.

It was this idea that stuck most firmly with Severus, and he couldn’t get out of his head every little touch Harry had laid upon him, every lowering of his lashes or shy smile. Of course, it had all been premeditated. How could it _not_ have been. Merlin, how Harry must have congratulated himself on his plan on that very first day. He was probably expecting to have to pull out all the stops to charm the snarky old bat of the dungeon and, instead, he’d been met with a new and improved Snape. Talk about being the architect of your own downfall. Severus’ humiliation was his own, galling as it was to admit to himself, although that didn’t stop the intense anger that filled him every time he thought of Harry Bloody Potter. His only intention now was to ensure his mask never slipped again.

~~~present~~~

…Kizzy appeared with an almost silent pop, her large eyes taking in her master’s sleeping form. Her face relaxed – she still hadn’t really forgiven him his earlier temper and had been ready to scold – yet, how could she remain upset with him when it was only she who truly knew the good man he was? Tutting gently as she removed his shoes – he never remembered to take them off before getting comfortable – she Summoned a blanket and draped it across him. It was such a shame the other wizards and witches of the castle couldn’t see beyond the mask he wore. For a while, she’d thought Professor Potter might be the one to break through, but he’d proven himself unworthy. If only Kizzy knew why he’d changed his mind, she could help put things right. She smiled, then. House-elves had their ways of finding things out. Headmaster Snape would have a happy new year, she’d make sure of it.

~~~new year’s eve~~~

Severus breathed deeply as he stretched, arching his aching back and turning his head back and forth. It was all very well being one of the foremost potions experts in the Wizarding World, but staying that way meant leaning over cauldrons for days on end, and his body certainly protested his expert status at times like these. He groaned to himself as something in his neck moved with a large crack. _Ah,_ that felt so much better. He sagged forward for a moment, before standing upright, much more relaxed now. He’d done it, and he allowed himself a small smile of elation, a feeling of satisfaction filling him. Finally, something positive was happening, and it couldn’t come at a better time. The old year was slipping away, and Severus desperately needed to begin the new with a feeling of optimism.

Once back in his rooms, Severus poured himself a small whiskey to celebrate his success. Raising his glass in salute, he then downed it in one gulp, shuddering slightly as the fiery warmth slid down his throat. Damn, that was just what he needed, and he reached for the bottle.

A tapping on the window caught Severus’ attention, and he put the glass down before moving swiftly to the window. A large owl flapped bravely, fighting the buffeting wind as it attempted to find purchase on the sill. Severus quickly undid the latch, swearing vociferously as the icy wind caught at the opened pane and ripped the latch from his fingers. The owl entered the room with what could only be an appreciative hoot, before landing on the stand in the corner and beginning to preen the ice crystals from its damp feathers. Severus ignored it, fighting with the open window for several moments, intent on getting the window closed.

A quick drying spell on his hair and upper body mitigated the worst of the damage, and Severus was ready to read his missive. Removing it from the now sleepy tawny owl, he didn’t think he recognised the handwriting and couldn’t imagine who might be writing to him on the last day of the year. A quick scan to the bottom showed him Hermione Weasley’s signature. He couldn’t fathom what she might be writing to him for, as he hadn’t seen her since the end of the war. He read from the beginning,

 _Dear Professor Snape, I hope you don’t mind me writing to you, but we have not heard from Harry since the day before Christmas Eve._ Severus snorted, wondering what the hell this had to do with him. Seriously, was Potter unable to function without his friends? _Our letters have been returned unopened, and the floo is closed. I wouldn’t normally worry, but Harry was feeling quite unwell the last time we spoke. Of course, I know the house-elves will be taking excellent care of him, but I’d appreciate it if you would let him know we’re expecting to hear from him as soon as possible…_

Severus didn’t bother reading the rest of the letter, his mind suddenly darting back to the edict he’d issued to the house-elves, via Kizzy. Could that have something to do with Harry’s – no, Potter’s – apparent disappearance? Surely not. Potter was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and no trifling cold could stop the Saviour of the Wizarding World. This was utterly _ridiculous._

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Severus snatched up his robe and stalked from his chambers, slamming the door, unmindful of the startled squawk from came from within. Marching through the empty corridors, Severus had worked himself into quite a state by the time he reached Harry’s door, and he wasn’t prepared to be diplomatic.

“ _Potter!_ Get out here this instant!” Severus knocked insistently on the door, barely able to hold in his ire. 

“ _“POTTER!”_ His voice reverberated through the corridor, but there was no sound to be heard from the room. This only added to Severus’ feelings of anger and, dare he admit it, panic. He waited for a moment, and then raised his wand. “Last chance, Potter, or I’m coming in.”

Severus’ whispered Alohomora was unsuccessful, and he frowned. He quickly ran through the other unlocking spells he knew, but none were effective. He was now becoming concerned there might actually be something wrong.

“ _Kizzy._ ”

“You is needing me, Headmaster Snape, Sir?” Kizzy answered his call immediately, her large eyes widening even further as she saw where they were standing.

“Kizzy, have you seen Professor Potter over the past few days?” Severus tried to keep the alarm from his voice. Kizzy shook her head quickly, here large ears flapping wildly. 

“The house-elves is not seeing Professor Potter since you says we isn’t to, Headmaster Snape, Sir. Is us elves doing wrong?” Severus didn’t have time for the histrionics of his house-elf right now, and was swift to placate her.

“Of course not, Kizzy. I’m sure you all did exactly as I requested. However, Professor Potter’s friends are concerned they haven’t heard from him for a few days, and I appear to be unable to access his rooms.” Severus wouldn’t usually have been happy to admit such a thing, but semi desperate times and all that. 

“Of course, he’s probably just sulking, having had to do for himself for the past week, but I suppose we should just make sure.” He gestured toward the door “If you would, Kizzy.” Kizzy touched Severus’ arm and, within seconds, they were both standing on the other side of the locked door. 

The first thing Severus noticed – it would have been impossible not to – was the freezing temperature. It was very obvious that a fire hadn’t been lit in this room for some time. With a wave of her hand, Kizzy lit the lamps around the walls, and they both glanced around. The room reeked of disuse. Surely it couldn’t have been that long since Potter had been in here? Severus knew he’d been in the castle little more than a week ago. The idea Potter was playing him for some kind of fool now took hold, and he sneered. It would appear that worrying Severus unnecessarily was his way of getting his own back for deploying the house-elves elsewhere. How very juvenile of him and his childish friends; he had no doubt the Weasley pair were in on it, too.

“Check the bedroom, Kizzy, although I’m sure you’ll find it just as empty. A little New Year joke on Mr Potter’s part, I fear.” The distressed squeak emanating from his house-elf put paid to that idea, as he realised she’d rushed into Potter’s bedroom at an alarming speed. He followed.

The bedroom was almost as cold as the outer room. A small bedside lamp cast a weak light, enough to show a shivering Harry lying atop his bed, the covers pushed in a tangle to the bottom. His breath rattled in his chest, the wet sound loud, even above Kizzy’s distressed cries. Severus needed to do something, and fast.

“Kizzy. Bring my potions bag to me immediately. Please ensure it includes a strong decongestant and Pepperup. If you can’t find the decongestant in my private stores, Madame Pomfrey will have what I need in hers. Get back here as quickly as possible.”

Severus didn’t wait to see if Kizzy carried out his commands. Several flicks of his wand banished dust and lit the fire. With that done, he concentrated on the diagnostic charm he ran up and down Harry’s shivering body. _Sweet Merlin,_ how had this happened? Harry was severely dehydrated and pneumonia was filling his lungs with fluid. Coupled with a temperature that looked to be on the rise, he was in a very poor state. Interestingly, Harry’s shattered knee also showed signs of raging inflammation that looked to be spreading out through his body. It was unlike anything Severus had seen before, but he didn’t have time to consider that conundrum right now. Time really was of the essence.

Conjuring a bowl of cool water and a flannel, Severus began to sponge Harry down, lowering his temperature the most pressing thing right now. He worked quickly, noting the scars on Harry’s leg as he did so. They looked nasty, and Severus could see why they still affected Harry so painfully. No wonder he limped.

Harry was mumbling now, trying to arch away from the cool water that made his heated skin shiver violently. Severus leant forward, trying to catch what Harry was saying, but it was unrecognisable, merely sounds of distress. Severus couldn’t let himself feel pity though, not until Harry’s temperature was brought down. He continued, even as Kizzy popped back into the room carrying his large potions bag clutched against her chest.

“I is here, Headmaster Snape, Sir. What is you wanting me to do?”

Severus quickly explained which potions he needed first, and she set about removing them from the bag and putting them on to the bedside table.

“Continue to gently sponge Harry down, Kizzy, whilst I measure out the dosages. Be careful, he’s trying to fight, but we can’t stop just yet.” Severus passed the flannel over to Kizzy, and she did as he said. Severus, meanwhile, carefully measured out the extra-strength decongestant before spelling it directly into Harry’s stomach. He searched through his bag until he found the topical decongestant that would act from the outside. As soon as Harry’s temperature came down, Severus would apply it to his chest.

Severus conjured another flannel, and both he and Kizzy bathed Harry in cool water for the next twenty minutes. Severus was seriously starting to consider flooing St Mungo’s for medical advice, when Harry suddenly stopped fighting against them and went limp. For a moment, Severus felt his heart stop.

 _“No!”_ He couldn’t stop himself from crying out, his stoic mask totally gone with the thought of no more Harry, and his eyes squeezed shut, his hands coming up to his face, “Please Merlin, no,” he breathed out on a sob.

Then a deep, rattling breath, could be heard, and Severus was once again in action, his wand running up and down Harry’s body, the diagnostic spell on his lips. _Yes._ Harry’s temperature was back within normal parameters, and they could now treat him for the rest of his ills.

“Kizzy, I’m going to levitate Professor Potter, and I’d like you to freshen his bed clothes. We need to make him more comfortable.” Severus didn’t wait for an answer, but levitated Harry, raising him gently above the bed and holding him there whilst Kizzy set to work. In less than a minute, Severus lowered Harry back into place and muttered a freshening spell. Kizzy, without being asked, spelled Harry’s nightgown clean – house-elves were far superior with those kinds of spells – and gently pulled the now fresh bedcovers over her Professor Potter.

Over the next two hours, Severus monitored Harry’s temperature closely. He had applied the topical decongestant and was now listening carefully for any change in the sick man’s breathing. Kizzy had been set to sorting out Harry’s main quarters, ensuring they were clean and warm for when he was able to use them again. She had instructions to provide Severus’ evening meal in Harry’s rooms at his normal time, as well as to have a simple broth on hand in case Harry woke and needed nourishment. In all honesty, although grateful for her help, Severus was keen to keep her busy and out of the way. He wanted no witnesses to what actually felt like some kind of an emotional breakdown. In his head, he kept hearing himself coldly inform Kizzy of his orders regarding leaving Harry to himself. It was _his_ fault Harry was in this predicament; _his_ fault Harry had nearly died. 

All Severus could think of was that he hadn’t really changed, hadn’t altered from the petty, vindictive man his life had made him. He’d honestly thought that man was gone and yet, at the first test, he’d fallen back into his old ways. No wonder Harry wanted nothing to do with him. No wonder he’d sought his revenge. What in Merlin did he, Severus, have to do in order to be the man he so desperately wanted to be? He didn’t know, and surely, if he didn’t know on this night of all nights – the passing of the old year into the new – there was no hope for him. He leaned back in the chair and watched Harry struggle to breathe. 

Severus was sipping a cup of Kizzy’s special herbal blend tea when Harry’s breathing finally began to change. The wet rattle he’d been listening to for several hours suddenly stopped, to be replaced by more even breaths. _Finally._ Severus rose, his wand out and casting diagnostic spells once more. The results were very different this time, showing much improvement over the long hours. Watching Harry breathe, Severus could see he’d now fallen into a more normal sleep. He would need a lot of that over the next few days if he were to fully recover.

Severus sat and closed his eyes, sighing gratefully. He hadn’t realised how tightly wound his whole body was until right now, and he breathed in a deep, calming breath. If it hitched in his chest slightly, only Severus was there to know what emotion was flooding through his body. Interestingly, it wasn’t anger. He sat very still, trying to come to terms with his loss of the all-consuming anger that had consumed him these past weeks. Where had it gone? Nothing had changed, after all. Harry had still purposely led Severus on, making him believe they had a friendship – and even the hope of something more. Surely that was unforgivable? Making a fool of Severus Snape. Yet, taking his own actions into account, and particularly those of last week which could have resulted in a tragedy of epic proportions, Severus found he couldn’t blame Potter. It was a depressing thought.

Severus realised he had dozed off when he came awake suddenly, wondering what had woken him. He cast a Tempus, noting it was nearly 10p.m., and looked around the room – Kizzy had not appeared – and then over to Harry. He stood quickly as he noticed Harry’s restless movements. He’d moved and settled on his stomach, his head turned towards Severus. He was mumbling in his sleep, obviously dreaming, and Severus stepped forward, bending slightly in order to hear what he was saying. It took several moments for him to understand exactly what he was hearing and seeing and, when he did, he stepped back sharply in embarrassment, sitting heavily back in his chair. Harry was obviously aroused, soft moans accompanying his movements. Severus felt like a voyeur watching Harry thrust into the mattress, the speed of his movements increasing, his breathy cries getting louder. 

Severus wished to Merlin he wasn’t seeing this. In his most secret heart of hearts, in the middle of many lonely nights, he’d dreamt of seeing Harry aroused, only he’d been the one to bring Harry to release. Sitting here now, his own erection straining, yet studiously ignored, Severus could only accept that this was his punishment, knowing that Harry was dreaming of another. There could surely be nothing more tortuous that this, and it served him right. If this was his atonement, then so be it. He would bear it because he must.

Severus didn’t take his eyes from Harry’s face, watching as he continued to thrust faster into the bed below him. Harry was flushed with arousal and, although he was asleep, a feverish glitter showed through an open sliver of his eyelids. Severus felt like Harry was watching him, looking into the centre of him, and finding him wanting. It made his agony even more acute, if that were possible. When would this nightmare end? Harry suddenly stiffened - _oh, thank Merlin_ \- before shouting out his release, a drawn out and sibilant, “Ssseverusss.”

 _It couldn’t be!_ He must have misheard. Severus sat stunned, unable to move his gaze from Harry, watching as his heightened colour faded and his breathing evened out. Severus’ heart was beating so fast, for a moment he thought he, himself, was going to pass out. Breathing would probably be a good idea right now, and he sucked in a lungful of air, unaware he’d been holding his breath until that moment. Surely he was mistaken? But no, Harry had called out Severus’ name as he climaxed. _Severus’_ name. The name of his most hated professor and adversary.

Slowly, shock gave way to…Severus didn’t know what to feel. If Harry was _dreaming_ of Severus, why had he stopped talking to him all those weeks ago? Why had he ignored every overture Severus had made? What the hell had happened to Harry to make him end their friendship? Severus even couldn’t begin to fathom Harry’s thinking on this, so he’d just have to wait until he woke and ask him then. Another Tempus showed it to be almost 11p.m. Only an hour until the new year. Was it possible this next year could bring Severus everything he wanted? He certainly hoped so.

Severus’ arousal had faded, and there was nothing he could do except wait for Harry to wake up. He stood quickly, pacing backwards and forwards across the room. He needed something to keep his mind occupied. It came to him suddenly, the anomaly in Harry’s diagnostic scan earlier in the evening. He quickly ran the scan again, centring on Harry’s injured knee. Hmmm, intriguing. The severe inflammation that had radiated from his shattered knee earlier in the evening now barely showed. How was that possible? He hadn’t used any potions on the knee. Severus sat back down, thinking deeply.

“Of course!” Severus didn’t even realise he’d spoken out loud. Harry had told him the bone-shattering curse hadn’t acted as it should, baffling the Healers. The curse had obviously been modified – bastardised, in fact – and the unknown component was what was affecting Harry’s ability to heal. In fact, if Severus’ suppositions were correct, it was even worse than that. It would appear that the modifier was insidiously weakening Harry’s immune system so he’d be susceptible to simple, everyday illnesses. How very clever, Severus mused. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, killed off by the common cold. Or pneumonia. Severus suddenly smiled,

“Kizzy,” he called quietly.

Kizzy appeared, glancing quickly at Harry before looking enquiringly to Severus.

“Kizzy, I’d like you to bring me a bottle of the potion that’s sitting in my lab, the one I’ve been working on.” Severus was barely finished before she disappeared. She was back in moments, and then popped out again.

Severus looked at the bottle in his hand; his newly developed potion, finished today. It was only now he could admit to himself that he’d developed it with Harry in mind. It was a variant of the diagnostic spell in potion form. Once in the system – and allowed to work for approximately an hour – in tandem with the spell, it would give specific information on the curses cast, particularly helpful when unknown spells had been used. Severus measured out a small dose ready to spell directly into Harry’s stomach, raising his wand to cast…

But Harry was awake and watching him, his eyes squinting in the firelight.

“Severus?” He sounded weak and unsure. “Is that you?”

Severus realised Harry could barely see him without his glasses, so he put down the potion, picked them up from the bedside table and placed them gently onto Harry’s nose. As Harry reached up to settle them more comfortably, Severus flicked his wand and the chair shifted nearer to the bed. He seated himself, stalling for time, he had to admit.

“It _is_ you. What are you doing here? Why…?” Harry stopped in obvious confusion, his voice dwindling to a whisper. Severus couldn’t bear to see him so muddled.

“It’s okay Harry, there’s nothing to worry about.” Severus spoke gently. “You’ve been very ill, but you’re on the mend, now.” He stopped, suddenly overcome with remorse. This was all his fault.

“I’m so sorry you got ill. If I hadn’t told the house-elves to ignore you over Christmas, you’d never have been left alone. I can’t believe I was so petty, but I…”

Harry didn’t let him finish, “Severus, stop. What are you talking about?” There was even more confusion in his voice now. “Kizzy was fantastic to me over Christmas, making sure I ate and didn’t spend the whole time moping.”

Severus didn’t understand. What did Kizzy have to do with this? And if she’d spent so much time with Harry, how the hell had he got so ill? He voiced these questions, hoping Harry would have the answers.

“Well, I did feel pretty awful over Christmas, but Kizzy kept me supplied with potions – and chai tea for some reason - and I was fine in a couple of days. Then I decided I might as well go to Ron and Hermione’s for New Year, so I told her I wouldn’t be here for a few days.” Harry stopped, coughing sharply. Severus poured him a glass of water and helped him to sit. Damn those tingles, he thought. He also passed Harry the glass containing his newest potion, which Harry drank without question, grimacing at the taste, then downing more water. He sank back against the pillows, drained. Severus waited patiently for Harry continue his story, his face impassive.

“Trouble is, my knee really started playing up, and I couldn’t get out of bed. I don’t really remember much after that, ‘cept being so hot and then freezing cold.” Harry’s speech had started to slur as a wave of tiredness overtook him. Severus decided he should be the one doing the talking now. The New Year was almost upon him, and he was going to make sure he made some changes to his life this year.

“When Kizzy and I found you – _damnnation_ , I forgot to let the Weasleys know why they hadn’t heard from you – you could barely breathe, and your temperature was dangerously high.” Severus stopped, once again feeling that wave of panic that they were too late. He must have given some signal of distress, because Harry reached forward and grasped one of his hands in his own.

“Thank you, Severus. You and Kizzy.” Harry smiled then, and Severus thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. He found he couldn’t stop himself from rushing to find answers to his questions,

 _“Why,_ Harry? Why did you stop talking to me, spending time with me? Was it something I did?” Severus couldn’t know how desperate he sounded, but Harry did, and he grasped Severus’ hands even more tightly, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t anything you did, Severus, I promise. I just…” Harry stopped for a moment, breathing as deeply as his abused chest would allow, “I realised I was bad for you. No! Don’t interrupt.” Severus closed his mouth on the words that were eager to rush out and just stared at Harry, waiting for him to continue.

“That day I arrived here, you were so different than I’d expected; so welcoming; so funny, actually, and I liked it straight away. You were still you, and yet you weren’t, if you know what I mean.” Harry looked beseechingly at Severus, who nodded his assent. He knew exactly what Harry meant.

“I haven’t talked to someone so much in years, Severus, haven’t connected so easily, and it scared me a little, I must admit. I knew what I was feeling, but I couldn’t read you very well. There were times I thought you looked at me exactly the way I knew I was looking at you, but…” Harry stopped to take a sip of water before continuing. Severus wanted so desperately to hear everything he had to say.

“But?” He couldn’t stop himself giving a gentle nudge.

“But you seemed so different around other people, and I thought I was imagining it. I knew, whatever I thought we had going for us, it wouldn’t be something you wanted others to know about.” Harry was watching Severus closely, obviously trying to discern whether his words were striking a chord. Severus squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“And then I was in a corridor one day, and I heard other staff members talking about us, betting on whether we’d come clean about our relationship by the New Year. I knew you’d be mortified, knowing you were talked about. So…so I finished it. I cut you dead.” Harry looked on the verge of tears.

But Severus had heard enough talk. He stood then, pulling his hands away from Harry’s, and bent forward, bringing their faces close. He was gratified to hear Harry’s breath hitch in his throat – in a good way, thank goodness – and to see his impossibly green eyes widen behind his spectacles,

“Severus…” he breathed.

“My Harry,” and Severus brought his lips to his Harry’s, gently coaxing. If he’d thought his hands tingled when touching Harry, it was nothing compared to the feeling of their linked mouths. Tentatively using his tongue, and aware that only hours ago, this beautiful young man had been seriously ill, Severus requested – and was granted – access to bliss. How he had gone this long without kissing Harry, Severus might never know, but now he’d had a taste, there was no going back.

Drawing away slightly, Severus raised his hands to gently cup Harry’s face.

“I am never hiding again, Harry. _We_ are never hiding again, okay?” And Harry’s answering smile was everything Severus knew he wanted in the coming years. As Severus made himself comfortable with Harry snuggled against him, the bells began to chime the New Year in. Neither heard, too wrapped up in the newness of each other to care about anything else.

~~~later~~~

Kizzy stood looking at her Master and the man she’d known was perfect for him. She hummed happily to herself, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow was going to be a beautiful day.

**Author's Note:**

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